My Son Demanded Rent at Christmas Dinner

and hated now.

When he finished, he stood and wiped his hands on his jeans.

“Looks good,” I said.

He smiled a little.

For a second, I saw the boy with the broken lamp.

Then he said, “You keeping the old house?”

“For now.”

“Are you going to sell it?”

“Maybe.”

He nodded.

No request followed.

That mattered.

Before he left, he stood at my front door and looked at continue reading …